Well I didn’t die yesterday. No crazy bombers blew up the Women’s March. In fact, it was an amazing, positive, inspiring experience that I’m grateful to have been a part of. It reminded me that I am part of something much bigger. I am not alone.
People from all walks came together to show solidarity and support one another. Organizers expected 200,000 people, and instead over a million people showed up in DC. And they didn’t just march in DC, but around the world. Everyone was friendly, smiling, cheering. People said “excuse me” when they bumped into each other. Every now and then you’d hear a few people chanting nonsensical chants, such as, “Let’s start the march now,” at the beginning after we’d waited for an hour to start marching. Turns out it was too big for anyone to move for some time, and we ended up going everywhere, off route, because there were just too many people. Towards the end, everyone was walking in different directions, and it didn’t even matter because we were there to show support for each other.
Some of the signs were funny. One sign read, “Don’t turn back time. Let Cher do that.” Another sign read, “There’s too much shit to put on one sign.” Quite a few signs read, “We shall overcomb,” with a picture of Trump’s combover. Oh, and one more: “Melania, if you need help, blink twice.”
I saw a few police and military people, but they were not unfriendly, and one police officer had classical music playing from his van. People were climbing on towers, trucks, bleachers, and no one minded. People were standing on the balconies of buildings, holding signs, wearing pink “pussyhats,” pink t-shirts, scarves. It was a sea of pink.
My mother would’ve LOVED it. I like to think she was there in spirit, shaking her fist in the air in the feisty way that characterizes her personality.
Most of my pictures from the march didn’t turn out so well, so instead I’ll link to this New York Times article with pictures from around the world.
Peace and love,